


Passing Into Summerland

by Jenshih_Blue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s01e21 All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1, Episode: s01e22 All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2, Episode: s02e01 In My Time of Dying, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-28
Updated: 2012-07-28
Packaged: 2017-11-10 22:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/471281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew his sons would succeed where he would fail. He hoped though he would eventually find his way to her somehow despite his foolish heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing Into Summerland

When he’d discovered the truth, he’d been angry as all hell. He’d always thought he and Mary had shared everything. Despite that, she’d held this secret close.

If it hadn’t been for her secret, perhaps none of this would have happened. Perhaps they would have still been together--a family. There were nights he sat unsleeping in a hard chair watching over his oldest son, gaze focused on the thin strip of leather that held the amulet Mary had placed around his neck when he was five months old. She’d insisted he always have it on him and after some argument, they’d agreed to pin it to his onesie until he was old enough to wear it around his neck. He’d thought it odd, but let it go. If it made his Mary smile like that, he’d been more than willing to tuck the questions away into a dark corner.

It was when he and Dean had been in Tennessee he’d discovered the truth.

Mary had an uncle in a small town about fifty miles outside of Nashville. He’d only seen the man twice--their wedding and her funeral. He was a tall slender man with silver hair and a face darkened by hours in the sun, but he looked nowhere near the eighty years he was when John had went to see him for the last time.

He was greeted by Jackson Tierney standing in the yard, pipe clenched between his teeth, and the silver strands of his hair dancing in the wind as he’d pulled up to the old farmhouse. Bringing the truck to a stop, John jumped from the truck, and moved across the dirt drive to stand in front of Jackson. The elder man nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“Howdy, Johnny.” he slipped the pipe from between his lips, bright blue eyes squinting against the dying daylight. “You ready to hear the truth?”

Taking a deep breath, John nodded.

***

Apparently, his Mary came from a long line of witches, generations that were traceable back to the days of the Roman Empire and possibly further. Witches weren’t what most people thought. There were no pointed hats, green complexions, or warts. There were no pacts with the devil or black magic. They were children of nature who were far closer to the creator than any Christian could hope to be. They understood evil was a natural part of existence and their job was to fight that evil.

Jackson had explained that there were thirteen original family lines and in each of those families, there were special children born every 13th generation, Mary had been one of those children. Those unique children held power far stronger than the others did and in rare moments, those like Mary would give birth to children even more powerful. That had been the curse Mary and others like her had bore for centuries. A curse after evil had touched the families and that evil had sworn vengeance.

As their power locked away the demon, he’d spoken a handful of words that frightened the families. With his final corporeal breath, he’d looked into their faces with fire-filled eyes and smiled. He’d promised he would escape and that he would open the gates of hell. Yet that had not been the worst. He swore one of their own would help him do so. They would know the truth when they saw one of their special ones born with the mark. That mark would let them know their child would be his to manipulate.

John had left behind the farm knowing Mary had made a mistake. She’d believed it to be Dean, but before she realized the truth, the demon had marked their youngest child--Sam. Now he knew what had murdered his wife and what was seeking out their youngest.

***

Hell had been far from what John had imagined. A place where no matter how much damage might be inflicted you would always heal. The thing though, was that the pain stayed with you. For him the pain was worth it. He’d done the unthinkable in the end, he’d made a deal with the demon to save the one person he knew was stronger than he was. Then despite his better judgment, he’d told Dean the truth.

For him hell was watching his boys tortured, torn apart by claws and teeth, murdered repeatedly. Somehow, he’d managed to keep his wits about him. He’d known it was all an illusion, his boys were safe from this place; he’d made sure of that by sacrificing himself.

It was while he was within its flame kissed walls a vision came to him.

His son. His youngest, Sammy.

A glowing white light surrounded Sam and his eyes filled with such sadness it made John’s heart ache. This time he knew this was no illusion, but rather the soul of his youngest reaching out to him.

_Sammy_ _?_

_Dad, he killed me._

_Oh, God, Sam…_

_Dean_ _’s alone, dad. He’s alone and he’s angry._

John had closed his eyes and felt the anguish growing in his gut. Everything he’d sacrificed had been for naught. His youngest had died and his oldest was on the verge of sacrificing his own soul because he’d failed as a father.

She appeared moments after Sam’s shade had, scarlet eyes burning. John saw the truth in her eyes and as she vanished, laughter on her twisted lips, he found a strength he’d thought lost. Seconds afterward Sam vanished, sharp anguish in his ethereal cry.

_Help us, dad…_

***

When the gates opened, he fought his way through the demons, the shades of the damned, and other things that had no name he knew. John Winchester was a stubborn bastard and despite all the mistakes, he’d made in his life this was not going to end up yet another one. Where the strength came from to claw his way to those gates, he couldn’t say, but as he came closer to the opening, it increased. In his wake, he left shrieking masses of burning ash as he pushed to the surface.

John realized he was too late when he stepped away from the licking flames and into the cool pine scented air. None of them saw him as he whispered by, although Bobby shivered and Ellen paused in her attempts to help Bobby to shut the heavy iron doors. For a moment, John thought perhaps she had seen him or at the least felt him. After all he and Ellen had been together even if it was just one night and both of them had been angry and grief stricken.

The further he moved from the door the more solid he felt himself become, soul coalescing into something like he’d been before. It was mere seconds, but to him it seemed a lifetime; Sammy pinned to a tree struggling, Dean leaning against the unforgiving stone of a grave marker, bleeding.

And then there was him.

There he was in all his demonic glory, still in the body of the unfortunate man he’d chose to be his corporeal form. Next to him, he heard a soft whisper that made his heartache with longing.

_John_ _…rip him away…save our boys…_

He knew that voice as well as he knew his own though nearly twenty-five years had passed since he’d heard it. He smiled, if a soul could smile, as he moved closer the demon unaware of his approach as he began to solidify. Reaching into the flesh and bone of the long dead man, John felt his fingers dig into the darkness. By the time the demon realized he was there it was too late, his strength fueled by anger, love, and vengeance giving John the upper hand. Tightening his grip, he ripped the hissing blackness from the body, arms wrapped tight around its demonic form.

John’s smile became a predatory smirk as the demon hissed and fought, but there was no winning this battle. The demon had made a vast error in judgment when he’d taken John to Hell. In taking his mortal life, he’d released John’s soul, and although in physical form, John couldn’t have done this, in his present form he could. It was like riding a bucking bull, hanging on for dear sweet life, and riding the violent wave of dark power.

Twisting and screeching the demon finally managed to throw John off, but it had been enough. Enough time for Dean to scramble to his feet, bleeding and sweating, and grab the Colt. John felt himself flying through the air and the impact of the ground sent the air rushing from his lungs.

Air?

He lay there feeling the winter dried grass brush against his cheek, cool earth beneath his fingers, moist with the recent rain, and the faint breeze stir his hair. Pulling in lungs of cold, damp air, he clung to the hope that perhaps he’d been granted forgiveness for his own foolish actions. Perhaps, that a second chance at life had been gifted to him by some higher power. Before he could consider this strange turn of events any further the loud report of the final bullet in the Colt jolted him back to reality, quickly followed by the wail of the damned, and lightening tore open the sky.

***

After all had been said and done, John lifted himself from the cold ground, and crossed the small area that separated him from his boys. Even if he’d been able to speak, there were no words inside him to do so. As he met his youngest son’s gaze, a lump rose in his throat. Sam’s eyes filled with tears as John smiled at him, a quick nod along with a bright smile communicating everything he needed to say. He could see Sam’s chest heave with a ragged breath as his own tears trailed down his face.

_I’m proud of you, Sammy, so damn proud._

Then John turned to his eldest and in Dean’s eyes, he saw so much love and disbelief it caused him to step closer. Dean whispered and his smile widened even more as he lifted his hand, gripping his son’s trembling shoulder. He knew Dean blamed himself for far too damn much. It was his fault his eldest had done what he had. Before the deal had been sealed he’d tried to make Dean understand why he’d done the things he’d done. Explain why he’d been so rough on him, but no amount of apologies could undo so many years of mistakes.

Squeezing Dean’s shoulder gently he let the tears flow and he prayed Dean could see the truth in his eyes. Jim had told him long ago a soul once freed from its mortal coils was incapable of lying. What he saw reflected in Dean’s eyes, proved Jim right. He could see it all; including the apology for the foolish deal Dean had made to bring Sammy back.

None of it mattered, not now--not ever.

With a soft sigh, John stepped back away from the one thing that had meant more to him than anything in this life. He could hear the voice whispering again, calling him to whatever lie beyond this life, but he didn’t want to leave his boys. He wanted to make up for all the years he lost. _God,_ John thought, he wanted to make it right.

_Our sons are strong, John. They understand far more than you think._

_But, it’s not time._

Soft laughter reached his ears as he felt his ethereal body begin to warm with love and sunlight. She was right, he knew that deep in his gut, but it was so hard to leave his boys for the second time.

_Come_ _, John_ _. It’s time to rest your weary soul._

He smiled one last time at his boys and sent out one clear thought. He prayed they heard it as the light consumed him.

_I love you, boys._

***

When the light had faded, he was standing in a place that was deeply familiar and comforting--Elton Ridge. The place where he’d heard her speak those words all those years ago that had made him the happiest of men.

The tree line in the distance was lush and green as it had been on that distant April afternoon, the sun low behind the trees edging them with gold against the vibrant green. They had sat here beneath the spreading limbs of this very oak, thick, and heavy with freshly sprouted leaves on a worn soft blanket. A gentle smile touched his lips as he leaned into the oak with his shoulder. As he did, two warm arms wrapped around his waist from the back and his smile brightened.

“Do you remember?” Her voice was dreamy with memories of the past as she laid her head between his shoulder blades.

“Yes,” John whispered as he turned in her embrace, “I remember how the sun turned your hair to spun gold. I couldn’t have been more in love that day.” He sighed as he tucked her head beneath his chin, pressing his lips to her hair.

Mary laughed. “Is that so, Mr. Winchester?”

He couldn’t help the laughter that rumbled deep in his chest as he tightened his arms around her lithe body, feel of silk smooth beneath his fingertips. “What is this place, Mary?”

Pulling back, she met his eyes with a smile. “My people called it Summerland long ago.” Her eyes sparkled with delight and mischief. “Some people call it Heaven.”

John reached out running his fingers through her hair, eyes lit up with love yet there was an edge of worry to their dark depths. “What about our boys?”

“They’ve grow to strong, beautiful men.” Mary whispered, fingers curling around his wrist, drawing his hand to her lips, and pressing a gentle kiss on the calloused palm. “You raised them well, John.”

Eyes drifting shut, John sighed. “Sammy?”

“He’s as powerful as his mother and as stubborn as his father.”

“Dean?” He questioned.

“He possesses a heart of gold like his father and a soul of endearing strength and hope like his mother.” Mary glanced up at John with sparkling eyes. “Neither will give in to the darkness. You did well, my love.”

Opening his eyes he glanced down at the woman he’d went, both literally and figuratively, to Hell and back for. His entire life after he’d met her had been about making her happy. About creating a life together and when she’d been torn from him he’d nearly died from grief. The two children they’d been blessed with had been the only thing that had saved him. He’d looked into Dean’s eyes and saw the hope and love he’d seen in Mary’s eyes years ago. Looking into Sam’s he’d discovered the intelligence and strength of character she’d possessed. They had been his last connection to the woman he’d pledged his life, his love, and soul to in front of god and family beneath the warm June sun. He’d sworn he would protect them, hold them close, and that he’d done, but somewhere along the way he’d also created two soldiers; men of strength, intelligence, and faith.

Here now, his beloved Mary in his arms, he came to the realization that despite his human errors he’d done exactly what had to be done. Perhaps he’d robbed his children of what some would call a _normal_ life, but then those who believed did not see the truth. Even he had never seen it when he walked the earth as a man.

His boys had a destiny as he had. They were heroes, men that legends would be created about, whispered about in the darkest corners of the world. Stories like Homer had written and the bards of old sang of in dark alehouses. They were destined to be the heroes of stories parents would tell their children in the future to give them strength and courage.

“What are you thinking about, John?” Mary questioned, eyes alight with curiosity that reminded him of Sam.

John smiled, “Everything and nothing.”

Nodding, Mary stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his in a tender kiss, then pulled back. “It’s not so bad, John. Time has no meaning here. Soon they’ll be with us and we’ll be a family again.”

“Mary?”

“Yes?” She slipped her hand into his walking across the thick soft grass, tugging him along playfully.

Quirking a brow John smirked. “Do they have anything here that you want?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, baby.” John hummed as he followed her lead, “How about foot long chili dogs?”

Mary’s laughter filled the air, “Chili dogs? You finally get your ass over the veil and you want chili dogs?”

Dimples deepening, John darted forward trying to grab Mary, but she slipped from his grasp, dancing away on bare feet through the grass. “Oh, I have other things I want, but they might kick me out for wanting that.” He waggled his brows as Mary let out a loud shriek of laughter, darting between the trees.

“You want that John Earl Winchester you have to catch me!”

Of course, John had never been able to resist a dare. Especially not a dare offered by his beloved Mary.

~Finis~


End file.
